If You Don't See It, It Doesn't Exist
by Zoisa
Summary: Quinn touches herself while thinking of Rachel. G!P Quinn


**Words:** 2,561  
**Rating:** NC-17/R/MA  
**Summary:** Quinn masturbates while thinking of Rachel.  
**Warning:** None.**  
****A/N: None of my stories are beta'd, feel free to let me know any errors I made. Please and thank you. Also, I do not share Quinn's belief in regards to her penis. It is simply what I think Quinn would think during season 1. The only change made was the format thanks to JR-Boone. As for whether or not there will be a sequel, there will be a few other one-shots that will eventually prepare me for the multichapter fic I've been planning. I don't know when that will be. There was a request to include Rachel next time, unfortunately it wouldn't play well in this 'verse, but I've planned a little something that will hopefully be good enough. Best regards~**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee nor the characters.**

She had arrived home a little later than usual after cheerleading practice. Sue had kept them later to make-up for the insubordination of last week, as she so put it. Quinn hadn't been in the mood to deal with Sue's crazy antics that day.

It had been a particularly stressful day for her.

Rachel had been even more annoying than usual.

She had known it'd be a terrible day when Rachel had strutted through the hallways wearing a skimpier outfit than usual. What business did she have wearing things like that? Quinn was furious at how everyone was ogling her; everyone but her, of course.

There's no way Quinn would ever find _manhands _the least bit attractive. She was a girl after all, and girls like her only liked boys. Well, she couldn't say she was exactly like most girls, but this was one thing that she had to have in common with other girls.

It didn't matter to her whether or not she had seen Santana and Brittany going at it at cheerleading camp last year.

It didn't matter that it had made her _hard_ thinking about what they were doing while they thought no one was watching.

She was a Fabray and hell was more likely to freeze over than her turning out to be gay.

Sure, she had been born slightly different than other girls, and her appendage seemed to respond to girls only, but it meant nothing to Quinn.

There was only one way to relieve stress at a time like this. It was another thing Quinn kept hidden. She couldn't let anyone know. It was one thing to be different, and another to willfully commit a sin. However, she couldn't resist the urges.

She wondered if she had been born _normal_, if she wouldn't have to deal with this. Rachel's words always rang in her ears. _'Girls want sex just as much as guys do.'_

She wondered if Rachel touched herself as well.

No, she couldn't think about Rachel touching herself. Maybe not until she was in the privacy of her own room.

She hadn't asked for this; she didn't want something that would ostracize her from society, or her family. Her parents had kept it hidden from the rest of the family members, and they never mentioned it after they told her she had been born like that.

Her mother had started drinking sometime after, and Quinn often found blame in herself. Though she immediately shook her head of those thoughts and started blaming _it_.

The only other person who knew was her pastor, and he had simply looked at her with pity before promising to pray that God wouldn't punish her for something she had no control over. He prayed for the Devil's curse between her legs to not be a problem for when she passed away and God met her at Heaven's gates. She had cried herself to sleep for several weeks after that.

Her parents wouldn't be home for a while. Her mother was always at her book clubs on Wednesdays, and her father was out doing who knows what. He didn't bother to inform anyone, and Quinn frankly didn't care. Whenever they were around, the house echoed with shouts.

She tried many times to block the noise with some of the recordings of some of the glee club performances. They were mostly Rachel's, but some were group numbers. It was enough for her to pretend she didn't only record Rachel singing. She couldn't bring herself to admit out loud that it was Rachel's voice that often saved her from her parents' war with one another. They were both constantly drunk while they berated one another, and Quinn needed something to drown it all out.

She placed her bag on the floor next to her desk. She had somewhat of a ritual before she began. She needed to make sure she had enough time to proceed. She locked her door before heading to her window to open it slightly, all while keeping the curtains closed. It would ensure she'd hear anyone arriving home.

Her parents were never quiet. Something usually caused them to be furious enough to slam the door. It was enough to signal Quinn to clean up before they came indoors.

Not that they ever bothered checking up on Quinn. Her father usually headed straight for the den to pour himself a glass of scotch before her mother came home and prepared dinner. It was only four, and she still had an hour left.

It was plenty of time for Quinn. She never bothered to allow herself to enjoy each time she stroked herself. She was doing this out of necessity, not want.

She quickly removed the top of her uniform, but kept her bra on. She never fully undressed in case her parents arrived early. She was prepared for any scenario. She knew if she was caught in the act her parents would throw her out immediately. They could tolerate her being born with that thing, but not if she was touching it and pleasing it.

She neatly folded her uniform to avoid getting wrinkles. She knew Coach would have a fit if anything was out of place. She removed her shoes and placed them in her closet. Her mother had forced her to have these habits at a young age. She was supposed to be prim and proper, and that part of her had been ingrained into her and followed her to school.

Her locker was as neat as her room, and Santana had commented on her obsessive behavior when they were heading for the showers. Though part of the reason she performed said rituals there had more to do with her secret rather than her strict upbringing. She needed to ensure she was the last one to go in and out of the lockerooms.

She repeated the same for her skirt; she placed it neatly on top of her shirt, leaving her spankies on. She looked at herself in the mirrors running along the length of her sliding closet doors. She looked down at the obvious bulge with annoyance.

It always made her super careful when she was at the top of the pyramid. She couldn't risk Santana looking up and noticing something _extra_ about Quinn. It would most likely end up with Santana shrieking and causing the pyramid to crumble, or worse. She could use it as blackmail to ensure her spot atop the pyramid, and make herself captain. Quinn couldn't let that happen. She worked too hard to reach the top, and no one – nor thing – would take this away from her.

The anger rushing through her was enough to cause it to twitch. It seemed to get off on the adrenaline rush surging through her.

Quinn sighed before reaching into her closet for the dress she'd change into before dinner. Her parents always expected her to dress as 'girly' as possible. She knew it was done solely to dilute themselves into pretending it didn't exist.

She grabbed a plain t-shirt and sweatpants she only wore on these occasions. As much as she loved wearing them, she knew her parents hated it.

She removed her spankies, repeating her ritual as she did before quickly dressing and headed for her bed.

She pulled the covers over herself; it was another one of her precautionary routines. She spit on her hand before her hand wandered down until it reached the elastic of the sweatpants, and going beneath to touch the skin.

The first time she had done it without wetting her hands had hurt a lot. It led her to researching ways to do it. There was no way she could buy a bottle of lube without her parents noticing, but she found this alternative. She had also learned to keep tissues nearby. She hadn't expected the trails of white substance to come out, and she had panicked to clean the mess. That night she also cried until she slept; she was disgusted with herself.

At the beginning she thought of the usual thing, boys. She tried hard to force a reaction, but to no avail. It wasn't until she kept thinking of her that she started feeling something.

She stroked herself softly to avoid hurting herself. She wasn't hard yet, but when the _dwarf _popped into her mind, it didn't take long.

She thought back to Rachel's outfit that day. Her skirt was shorter than usual, revealing very long sensual legs. The guys had made it obvious they were staring, and it only pissed Quinn off.

Why did they get to look while she couldn't?

She didn't think it was fair. She was much brighter than those losers, and she would someday get out of this town, even if it killed her. Those jocks would soon realize they peaked in high school, much like Finn.

Quinn hated thinking of him whenever she was trying to get off, but whenever she thought of Rachel her was reminded of Rachel's infatuation with the oaf. He was Quinn's boyfriend, but she didn't like him; she needed him for appearances. It was hard to like him when he had a pea brain.

Quinn honestly didn't know what Rachel saw in him. He wasn't the most athletic or the brightest. He wasn't kind and selfless; he was just as bad as Quinn in that regard. They were both shallow and obsessed with the world's view of them; they craved the admiration of their peers. The only difference between them was their intelligence.

Quinn managed to ace all her classes, and she was taking AP courses. Finn could barely manage to open his pudding cup by himself. She doubted he'd get far in life.

'_What does she see in him?'_ Quinn's stroked became more aggressive. She was almost completely hard. She hated Finn, and she hated Rachel. She had struggled so hard to keep her (him) away from him (her). Rachel was ruining all the efforts she had put into keeping them apart.

Quinn could feel pre-cum starting to leak at the head. She placed her thumb over it and used it as a lubricant. The first time she tried it she had been scared, but after several times she had become used to it.

She didn't want to think about Finn anymore. This was supposed to relieve stress, not cause more. She thought back to Rachel's comment. She wondered again if Rachel touched herself, just like she did. She wondered if she pretended her Manhands belonged to someone else. _'They're masculine enough that she could pretend some boy is touching her.'_

If Quinn was being honest with herself, she knew she didn't think that at all. Often she'd pretend it was Rachel's hands going up and down her penis with vigor. Her soft palms stroking her, making her pant as she got closer and closer to cumming.

Quinn snorted at the thought of Rachel's determination leading her to research all this stuff. _'She's probably practiced on a banana or something.' _The thought of Rachel practicing was enough to emit a moan out of Quinn.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She could see her hand moving underneath the cover going back and forth. Her hips had begun to move on their own. Rachel had overtaken her mind completely, and all she could think of was those legs wrapping around behind her waist and pushing Quinn deep inside her. _'She'd probably like it, being taken like that. She'd probably make a lot of noise too.' _Quinn whimpered at the thought. Her entire body was heating up. She knew it wouldn't be long before she finally released.

She wished she could find out. She wanted Rachel to be here with her right now. She wondered if she'd cower in fear when she saw Quinn's extra appendage.

That stirred Quinn even more; thinking about Rachel being scared as she looked at it. _'Maybe she'd ask to touch it.' _Quinn told herself as she her hand moved faster up and down.

Her entire dick was coated with pre-cum, making it easier to do faster and longer strokes. She could feel her muscles tightening with each stroke. She gripped a little tighter. _'She's probably really tight. It'd probably feel better than my hand. I would make her feel better than her hand.' _

Quinn didn't know what she was thinking. There was no chance in hell she cared if Rachel liked it or not. She just needed something to get her off, and if this was the thing that did it, then so be it.

Quinn leaned her head back into her pillow. She was beginning to lose her rhythm as she nearly climaxed. She kept grunting as she forced herself to give powerful strokes. Her athleticism aided her in holding on. "Come on." She muttered as she became on done.

Her toes were curled as she shot her load. She continued stroking with one hand as her other hand covered the head to ensure none of it landed on her sheets. As the last trails of cum shot out, she whispered Rachel's name.

She never bothered trying to figure out what this all meant. She remained still as she tried to catch her breath. Her hands were still cupping her penis. She knew she had to get up before her parents arrived, but between practice and this, she had exhausted herself out. Her muscles felt like noodles, and she needed a breather.

She looked at her bedside table to the box of tissues. With her _cleaner_ hand she grabbed a few and began wiping away any traces of cum. She needed to take a shower before her parents arrived. After each session, there was always a scent left over, but she was always prepared. Leaving the window open helped with that; she also kept a fabreeze spray bottle in her closet just in case. She also disposed of the tissues in a special way. Her mother sometimes inspected her rooms, and she wouldn't be able to explain the bundles of tissues, nor the substance that covered them. She kept bags in her drawers to store them before tossing them in the dumpster outside. She undid her hair; the bun was always messy towards the end anyway.

She did all that before hopping in the shower and readying herself for her parents' arrival. Once she stepped back into her room, she heard a car door slamming. She peaked down her window to see who it was. Her mother had arrived first. It was enough to relieve some of her worry. If her mom made dinner before her dad arrived, he'd be in a better mood.

All hope went down the drain when she heard another car not a minute after. It wasn't enough time for her mother to have prepared the food which meant another fight was coming sooner rather than later.

Quinn sighed and turned away from her window. She surveyed her room one more time. It was as spotless as the moment before she had entered it.

It was as if nothing sinful had occurred in this room the past hour.

Quinn thought back to her parents' behavior towards her abnormality.

If you can hide it, then it doesn't exist.

And Quinn had made sure nothing about her room indicated those moments with herself existed.


End file.
